Read Online Darker Jewels by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Free Book Online
Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
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Neglect to honor him and you might pay for that oversight with your skins.”
Father Brodski belatedly dropped to one knee, paying no attention to the quelling look Father Pogner shot him. “It was not my intention to offend you, Majesty. It was only our ignorance that kept us from showing you honor. We ask you to remember that we had never seen you. And given”—he broke off to indicate the worn double-sleeved old-fashioned cote Istvan wore— “that you are not yourself dressed for courtesy, we may be forgiven our misunderstanding.”
Istvan nodded decisively twice. “That is more in the line of what I will need in Moscovy. You relieve me, Father Brodski. I was beginning to fear I was sending incognizant men to work on my behalf.” This last was intended for Father Pogner, but it was Father Komel who felt the barb.
He went down on one knee beside Father Brodski. “King Istvan, we will serve you in whatever capacity you require; you have but to tell us what that capacity may be, for it would not be fitting or desirable for us to anticipate your wishes in this regard, and thus risk compromising the very thing you wish us most to do.” He lowered his head, and earned a quick glance of disgust from Father Pogner before he reluctantly dropped to one knee with the others.
“It was not my intention to offend you, Majesty,” said Father Pogner in a tone that implied the opposite.
“I am not offended, unless you should now forget yourselves.”
He lifted the bell at last. “There is a meal waiting for you. Since you were not here at mid-day you missed the dinner. There is only a supper planned for the evening, and so the cooks have made something more substantial than that because you are weary from traveling and cold. It was ordered while you made yourselves known to the Bishop, anticipating your return. The servants will serve it in the chamber next to the pantry. That way they will be able to continue their tasks without neglecting you or their work. The chamberlain will lead you there.” He waited a moment, then ventured, “Unless you would prefer to speak to Father Krabbe first?”
“It would be my honor to escort you to his bedside,” said Rakoczy smoothly.
Father Pogner got to his feet, his pale eyes seeming almost metallic in their sheen. “What graciousness,” he said tightly. He stared down at the other two priests as if memorizing the extent of their duplicity in honoring Istvan. “We will pray at his bedside and bless him with holy water,” he announced in a level tone, moving back toward the fireplace while Father Komel and Father Brodski both scrambled to their feet. “Before we eat.”
The other two accepted this without question, although Father Komel licked his lips and looked disappointed as he agreed.
“You will find he is resting,” said Rakoczy. He watched Father Pogner without revealing himself; he maintained a polite deference. “It would probably be best if he continues to sleep.”
Father Pogner rounded on him, determined to establish his authority over Rakoczy as well as the other priests. “It will be best if he joins us in prayer, for the salvation of his soul and the preservation of his body, if it is God’s will he be delivered from sickness.” His long hands were clenched and his thin mouth now turned down with the force of his condemnation.
Rakoczy exchanged a swift, emphatic glance with Istvan Ba- thory before he met Father Pogner’s gaze with his own. “You must do as you think best. But you will find the rosary in his hands and his missal on his pillow. And my manservant read to him from Scripture. If you believe you must disrupt the restoration of God’s healing sleep, you will do it. But I myself heard him place his soul in the hands of his good angel, and I am not willing to stop the angel at his work.”
“What faith you have,” marveled Father Pogner with contained fury. “I wonder that you are not in Holy Orders.”
“I studied for the priesthood
Father Brodski belatedly dropped to one knee, paying no attention to the quelling look Father Pogner shot him. “It was not my intention to offend you, Majesty. It was only our ignorance that kept us from showing you honor. We ask you to remember that we had never seen you. And given”—he broke off to indicate the worn double-sleeved old-fashioned cote Istvan wore— “that you are not yourself dressed for courtesy, we may be forgiven our misunderstanding.”
Istvan nodded decisively twice. “That is more in the line of what I will need in Moscovy. You relieve me, Father Brodski. I was beginning to fear I was sending incognizant men to work on my behalf.” This last was intended for Father Pogner, but it was Father Komel who felt the barb.
He went down on one knee beside Father Brodski. “King Istvan, we will serve you in whatever capacity you require; you have but to tell us what that capacity may be, for it would not be fitting or desirable for us to anticipate your wishes in this regard, and thus risk compromising the very thing you wish us most to do.” He lowered his head, and earned a quick glance of disgust from Father Pogner before he reluctantly dropped to one knee with the others.
“It was not my intention to offend you, Majesty,” said Father Pogner in a tone that implied the opposite.
“I am not offended, unless you should now forget yourselves.”
He lifted the bell at last. “There is a meal waiting for you. Since you were not here at mid-day you missed the dinner. There is only a supper planned for the evening, and so the cooks have made something more substantial than that because you are weary from traveling and cold. It was ordered while you made yourselves known to the Bishop, anticipating your return. The servants will serve it in the chamber next to the pantry. That way they will be able to continue their tasks without neglecting you or their work. The chamberlain will lead you there.” He waited a moment, then ventured, “Unless you would prefer to speak to Father Krabbe first?”
“It would be my honor to escort you to his bedside,” said Rakoczy smoothly.
Father Pogner got to his feet, his pale eyes seeming almost metallic in their sheen. “What graciousness,” he said tightly. He stared down at the other two priests as if memorizing the extent of their duplicity in honoring Istvan. “We will pray at his bedside and bless him with holy water,” he announced in a level tone, moving back toward the fireplace while Father Komel and Father Brodski both scrambled to their feet. “Before we eat.”
The other two accepted this without question, although Father Komel licked his lips and looked disappointed as he agreed.
“You will find he is resting,” said Rakoczy. He watched Father Pogner without revealing himself; he maintained a polite deference. “It would probably be best if he continues to sleep.”
Father Pogner rounded on him, determined to establish his authority over Rakoczy as well as the other priests. “It will be best if he joins us in prayer, for the salvation of his soul and the preservation of his body, if it is God’s will he be delivered from sickness.” His long hands were clenched and his thin mouth now turned down with the force of his condemnation.
Rakoczy exchanged a swift, emphatic glance with Istvan Ba- thory before he met Father Pogner’s gaze with his own. “You must do as you think best. But you will find the rosary in his hands and his missal on his pillow. And my manservant read to him from Scripture. If you believe you must disrupt the restoration of God’s healing sleep, you will do it. But I myself heard him place his soul in the hands of his good angel, and I am not willing to stop the angel at his work.”
“What faith you have,” marveled Father Pogner with contained fury. “I wonder that you are not in Holy Orders.”
“I studied for the priesthood
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